


kiss me (if you mean it)

by nerdybutpunk



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Baz Pitch is a Softie, Boys Kissing, Deer Shenanigans, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Kissing, M/M, Not Anti-Agatha, Oblivious Simon Snow, Pining Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Sharing a Bed, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, healthy friendships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-31
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-02-25 09:55:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22494172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdybutpunk/pseuds/nerdybutpunk
Summary: Baz keeps a journal, and it's spelled shut most of the time. Of course, the one time it isn't, Simon finds it.And, well, Simon can't stop obsessing over the entry he reads. (or, the one where Simon can't stop thinking about kissing Baz)
Relationships: Dev & Niall & Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Penelope Bunce & Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 29
Kudos: 787





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote a journal entry, and then reading it back I went 'this is some Pining Baz Pitch shit,' so I made it into a fic. Enjoy!  
> 

**Simon**

I know I shouldn’t read the journal. I should snap it shut and put it back on his desk like I’ve done with every other single thing I’ve knocked off his desk in the past seven years. I’ve never been good at impulse control though, and the writing is so hurried, so  _ messy  _ that it doesn’t look like Baz’s writing at all. 

The entry takes up most of the page, the writing clearly rushed. On the page beside it, there’s a taped Normal photograph. Dev, Niall and Baz are smiling, — no,  _ beaming  _ — at the camera with their arms slung around each other’s shoulders, Baz in the middle. There’s tiny handwriting next to it with an arrow.  _ Party at Dev’s,  _ it reads, with a little doodled balloon next to it. I smile despite myself before trying to force my face into something more neutral. It is  _ not  _ endearing that Baz apparently doodles. He’s still a git, even if he doodles. 

The entry. As I read it, the journal (some fancy thing, with intricate blue swirls carved into the dark wooden cover) nearly slips out of my hands. This isn’t the Baz I know. This doesn’t sound like Baz at all. I’d believe that a stranger wrote it, if it weren’t for the picture on the other page. 

_ I want to be kissed _ , the entry reads.  _ I want to be kissed, but not in the way that leads to sex. I want a kiss full of adoration, maybe a little bit of exploration. I want to feel my partner smile as I respond enthusiastically, and I want every inch of my body to sing when our noses bump clumsily. I want shaking hands and trembling lips, cheeks flushed as we part, before one of us leans back in, as the kiss was so intoxicating that we couldn’t do anything but press our mouths together again, desperate and in love. I want hands that wander, but not to my chest or hips. No, I want hands that cup my face, tilt my chin, grasp at my arms as I tangle my fingers in their hair. I want each press of our lips to ignite something in me, to light a fire that starts in my chest and spreads until I only know its gentle warmth. I want to be kissed as if kissing me is something to be treasured — as if  _ I  _ am something to be treasured.  _

An image, completely unbidden, pops into my head. It’s Baz, in someone’s lap, kissing them like he describes in the entry. His hair obscures whoever he’s kissing, but it’s intimate,  _ gentle  _ in a way I’ve never seen Baz before. 

My face flames red, and I hurriedly place the journal back on his desk. Merlin. I knew Baz could write, as he’s the top of our class and the best in Magic Words, but I didn’t think he could write like  _ that _ . Like someone who wants. Someone like Baz, infuriatingly good-looking and nearly bloody perfect, shouldn’t want for anything. But Baz wants to be kissed. Kissed by someone he loves.

I wonder who he loves. I wonder briefly if it's Agatha, but he hasn’t flirted with her since she and I broke up, and he has to know that she’d leap into his arms if asked. There’s other girls in our year, but he doesn’t talk to anyone outside of the footy guys, Dev and Niall, and the people he gets paired up to do projects with. 

I’m tempted to get up and grab the journal again, to flip through it and see if there’s any more soft entries like this one, more Normal polaroids pressed between the pages. It would be the worst kind of invasion of privacy, it would make me an even worse person than I already am for reading that one entry. 

I stay where I am, in my bed, thinking of Baz’s words over and over again, trying to figure out who it could be that has him writing like that, who’s worthy of him being romantic and soft. 

**Baz**

I’m flicking rolled-up balls of paper at Dev when I get the feeling that something is off. It’s an all-over feeling, the kind that makes one vaguely nauseous. I stop what I’m doing and pat down my pockets, thinking maybe I’ve left my phone somewhere again. It’s there, alongside my debit card and my earphones, but the feeling doesn’t go away. 

“What’s up?” Dev asks, “lost your phone again?” 

I shake my head. “You know when you feel like you’ve forgotten something, and you-”  _ Forgot _ . I forgot something. It hits me the minute Dev opens his mouth. My journal.   
  
I hadn’t spelled it locked since the last time I wrote in it, thinking I’d just throw it into my bag. I can’t believe I’ve been so careless about this. I’m  _ never  _ careless, it comes with being a Pitch. I’m on my feet instantly, grabbing my bag and doing a sweep around the dorm to make sure I won’t forget anything here, as well. 

“Dude, where’s the fire?” Niall asks, but he’s getting up anyway, ready to follow me. It makes me feel bad for calling him a minion, once. 

“My journals in my dorm, not spelled.” 

Both Dev and Niall go pale at the implication. They wouldn’t even  _ know  _ about the thing if I hadn’t become a huge sap while drunk and wanted them to “really know” me, but I’m grateful for it now, that they understand the rush. 

I disgust myself, sometimes. 

“Dude, what the fuck are you doing then? Go get it!” 

I appreciate Dev’s haste, but I’m already three steps ahead of him. “If I burst into there like a bat out of hell,” I stop to glare at Niall, who’s giggling. “If I burst in there, Snow is going to know that something is wrong and demand to stick his nose in it, which could make the entire situation ten times worse than it may currently be.” 

I’m desperately trying to think if I’ve ever mentioned Simon’s name in the journal. I might have, as I usually spell it shut the minute my pen leaves the paper, but I don’t remember consciously writing his name. Fuck, I should’ve listened to Fiona when she made fun of me for buying it in the first place. 

“Okay, then we go in acting like we’re just following you up to get your football so we can have a game on the lawn.” 

That could work. It’s only mid-afternoon. It makes perfect sense for us to practice on the pitch or the lawn. 

“Perfect,” I say. I pause for dramatic effect and then continue, “If he’s read it, I don’t care that he’s the Mage’s heir. He has to die.” 

Dev and Niall nod solemnly. I sneer at them for good measure. It’s an art, to move so quickly but to simultaneously look as though we’ve got all the time in the world, though once we get to the stairs leading up to the tower it’s hard not to break into a sprint. I take a moment once we get outside the door to compose myself. I set my back straighter, tilt my head just right, make sure a hair isn’t out of place, and right my clothes. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Dev doing the same. 

“I still think it’s creepy how you two do that,” Niall says, self-consciously running a finger through his own hair.

“It’s a Families thing,” Dev and I say in unison, and I can’t help but smirk a bit. 

I breeze into the room, not even tossing a glance at where Simon may be sprawled out on his bed like the lazy sod he is, and go right for the football underneath my own. As I shove it into a mesh bag along with my kit, I finally let myself look at the desk. My journal is there, but it’s on the edge of the desk, instead of in the middle with the other books I had planned to put in my bag but didn’t have time to. 

So he at least knocked it over, then, even if he didn’t read it. I force myself to take a deep breath. There’s no way of knowing without asking him, and I refuse to look weak, to let him know there's information I don’t want him having. 

**Simon**

Baz swaggers into the room, as cool as ever, but I can tell he’s agitated. His jaw is clenched a bit harder than normal, and his hands keep trying to curl into fists. His eyes narrow when he sees his journal, and I feel myself turn red. I think about the entry again, and I’m brought back to imaging Baz being kissed that way. My stomach flips, and I grimace.

He grabs it and whispers a quick  _ Under Lock and Key,  _ before visibly relaxing and shoving it in his bag. He’s about to leave, Dev and Niall close behind him (and now I can see the protective way they flank him, not minions at all, but friends who would do anything to keep their friend out of harm's way. It reminds me a lot of Penny) but he turns to look at me, face as neutral as ever. 

“Please try not to be such an oaf when you stomp around,” he says, looking at me cooly. “I would appreciate you not knocking everything about.” 

For a moment, I think about shutting him up with my mouth. And then I flush bright crimson, making him shake his head at me before leaving. 

I’m pretty positive he doesn’t know it knocked over open, or that I saw such vulnerability. Part of me wonders if this is a plot to get under my skin, or to make me look like an arse. Make me pity the bloke, and then turn around and unveil some horrible fate. 

I try to stay put, I really do. Penny’s enforced a rule about talking about Baz, and I’ve already broken it twice this week. I manage to stay where I am for a whole six minutes, but then I’m up and out of the room, heading outside to where Penny said she’d be studying.

“You said you were trying to get this week's homework done,” is how she greets me, and I can’t help but feel a bit offended.

“I could have done it by now,” I argue, throwing myself down onto the grass beside her. 

“Simon, you were in your room for a solid forty-five minutes. We both know you’re way too distracted to do more than do the reading in that amount of time.” 

She has me there. I read the passage for the homework, but haven’t actually written anything down for the actual assignment. “Okay, you’re right, but,” I say.

“I always am,” Penelope interjects. 

“ _ But _ ,” I continue on, “this is important. Baz left something in the dorm today by accident and now I don’t know what to do.” 

This gets Penny’s attention. “Like a magical artifact?” She asks, already closing her books and sitting up straighter. 

“Not exactly,” I say, because while Baz’s writing  _ is  _ magical to read, the only actual magic surrounding it is the locking spell he used. 

“Simon, you’re practically vibrating. What is it?” 

I tell her everything, and she looks both exasperated and pitying ‒ an expression I shouldn’t be so used to seeing on her. 

“Simon,” she admonishes, “That was a huge invasion of privacy.” 

“I know! I didn’t mean to, but then it was just written so, so…” 

She stares at me for a minute before sighing, deciding to take pity on me. “Okay, so he’s obviously pining for a relationship. Why is this so important to you? You know that if he wanted it that badly with Agatha, he’d have her by now.” 

I can’t articulate why it bothers me, and that nearly bothers me more than the entry. “It’s just, does his writing have to be so bloody perfect as well? That entry was something straight out of a romance novel, Pen.” 

“Simon, he’s part of the Families. Of course he’s going to have had lessons in everything under the sun, and has been since he could walk, talk, and hold a pencil. You need to stop comparing yourself to him, it’s not fair. To either of you.” 

I know she’s right, that I’m just being destructive. The people in Care never really cared about our education, and if you were struggling it was tough luck. It doesn’t help the way my stomach twists when he’s showing off, having fire dance around him or the other tricks he’s picked up in our years of school.

Penny takes my silence as agreement and nods, as if assuring herself of something. “I know it’s hard, but hating Baz isn’t going to make up for the shitty hand you were dealt. Yes, he’s been a prick, but he’s toned it down since fourth year. When’s the last time he attacked you, Simon? And I don’t mean with a sarcastic comment.” 

I hate that my having to think about it proves her right. That I have to think back, rack my brain for the last time he did more than sneer. I can’t even come up with anything he’s done, nevermind naming a date. 

“I don’t hate him,” I find myself saying. I’m shocked, but it’s true. I haven’t hated him since he stopped flirting with Agatha, I think.

Penny looks pleased. “I knew you’d get there eventually, Simon,” she says. 

“What?” 

She rolls her eyes. “Your whole thing with Baz. I’m confident that you guys haven’t ever actually hated each other. Honestly, I just don’t want to be around when it explodes.” 

Explodes? I try to ask her what she means, but she just gets up and brushes grass from her skirt. She tells me I’ll figure it out, as if there’s anything left to figure out other than how to go from Baz and I being enemies to… friends? Roommates who don’t hate each other? Whatever it is we’ll be when I confront him later tonight. 

**Penelope**

I’m surrounded by idiots. Simon was so, so close to getting it. 

**Baz**

We actually do play footie, and I destroy both Niall and Dev, who will say it wasn’t even competitive, that you  _ can’t  _ make a three-way match on an empty net competitive, but they’re wrong.

We use the locker rooms because I refuse to go back to my shared dorm with Simon any time soon, and then back to Dev and Nialls. I take the journal out carefully, mumble the unlocking spell, and then flip through it. It doesn’t  _ look  _ tampered with in any way, but that doesn’t mean anything. 

“Baz, mate. Come off it, he obviously just knocked it down and picked it back up. He probably thought it was some Dark Magic book instead of a journal.” 

I dislike agreeing with Niall, but Snow can indeed be quite dense. There’s also no food smudges and the pages don’t look touched. He wouldn’t have the control for a spell that would wipe away any trace of him, and I doubt Bunce would help him mask such a huge invasion of privacy. 

I don’t let myself relax, but the panic ebbs. “Yeah, he  _ is  _ illiterate, isn’t he?” I try to sound cool, but it comes out stunted. Damn my weakness against Snow. 

I just pray that if he  _ had  _ managed to read any of the entries, that he didn’t catch on that they were about him. 

I have no idea how I’d handle him knowing that I’m hopelessly, desperately in love with him. 

**Simon**

Baz doesn’t come back to the room. I can’t help but wonder if he’s somewhere, fulfilling the wish in his journal. I don’t mean to picture it, but I do: someone pushing Baz down (softly, always softly) onto a bed, as he watches with those silver eyes slightly wild. He’d tilt his head up, just enough to signal he wants it, but he won’t ask. Instead, the person he’s with would smile, before sliding their mouths together, one hand gently cupping Baz’s jaw. It would be gentle, and sweet, and everything Baz deserves. Baz would kiss back, eager but the slightest bit shy, but his partner would quell any nervousness instantly, with a knowing smile and a reassuring kiss to his forehead. They would go back to kissing as if they have all the time in the world, and Baz would know what it’s like to be safe, and I’d be the one making him feel that way, the one he whimpers for when I guide his hand into my hair and go to loop my arms around his neck, biting his lower lip. I would —

Wait. 

What? 

**Baz**

When I get back to the room, the lights are off and Snow is pretending to be asleep, but I can hear his heartbeat and smell smoke, the tell-tale signal of his magic leaking. The window is wide fucking open, as if he did it just to spite me, and I slam it shut with more force than necessary. He startles a bit, blowing his cover. I try not to look at him but fail. He’s shirtless, the absolute nightmare, and his curls are tousled just so, as if he had been tossing back and forth. I try and fail not to picture him tossing his head back and forth for  _ another  _ reason, and have to stride out of the room and into the bathroom, starting the shower. 

For all that I am an apparent huge sap, I am still an eighteen year old virgin living with the boy I’m in love with. Cold showers are just a part of daily routine, at this point. I cast a silencing spell at the bathroom door, and go about my business. 

Afterwards, I spell my hair dry and climb into bed. I face away from Simon, but I can feel him looking at me. Or, towards me, really. I doubt he can see more than a foot in front of him. 

I let myself forget about the journal. He hasn’t said anything about it when he was clearly awake. I haven’t been accosted by anyone, either, demanding to know more about me being queer. It’s probably nothing. 

Fiona would be laughing at me, bent out of shape about a journal like some pining eleven year old. I can’t help but snort that mental image before rolling over to face the wall. I try to sleep, but I can feel Simon’s stare. 

“Snow, I know I’m great to look at, but  _ please _ . It is nearly midnight, and we have class tomorrow. I cannot sleep while you stare at me.” 

He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t move. I sigh and turn over to face him. He startles as I prop myself up on my elbow. 

“Snow,” I say again, and his heart starts to beat faster. 

He gets up suddenly, all jerky limbs. He hesitates for only a second, before coming over to my bed. 

**Simon**

I have no idea what I’m doing. I’m standing over Baz like some kind of creep because I can’t get the thought of kissing him out of my head. I can’t help but wonder if this is what it’ll take to stop us from fighting. If we’d be able to be something else, after he thaws and lets me in. 

I know Penny would be asking me if I fancy him, if the years of antagonism and stalking and fighting were a lead up to what’s about to happen. I don’t have an answer, I just know that I want this, more than I ever thought I could. 

He’s looking at me, and I can tell he’s about to say something cruel. He’s about to ruin this whole thing, just because he has something against showing feelings like a normal person. 

I don’t think, I just climb into his bed, hook my knees on either side of his hips, and grab ahold of his arms, pressing them back into the pillow as I lean down and capture his mouth with mine. It’s soft, so painfully soft, and our noses bump as I pull away to see his reaction. He looks like he’s about to speak, so I kiss him again and he smiles, the barest of things, before he’s kissing me back. 

I try to remember everything from that entry of his, to make this good. I want to make it so good that he has no choice other than to keep kissing me until he physically can’t. 

He pulls away after a moment, eyes wild and hair mussed. “Simon,” he breathes, and I can’t help but run a hand through his hair. 

“Basil,” I say, his full name feeling weird but  _ right  _ in my mouth.

“I don’t understand,” he says, and I shrug. 

“I wanted to kiss you.” 

He seems to have to reboot after that, and I take the opportunity to kiss him again, just once, as I cup his face with both of my hands. “Do you not want me to?” I murmur, leaving just a breath’s space between us.

He looks conflicted. Merlin, what I’d give to see what’s going through his head. 

**Baz**

  
  


My brain refuses to work. Simon Snow just kissed me, and kissed me the way I’d be hoping he would since fourth year. 

I’m about to reach for his mouth again, to put my hands on his thighs and feel him solid and warm against me, but then I remember.

The journal. The fucking journal. I wouldn’t put it past Snow to use it against me like this, to figure out it was about him and torture me like this, make me admit I want it just to use it against me later.

“You read my journal entry,” I accuse, pulling back. I mean to be more intimidating, but I’m very close to saying  _ fuck  _ the journal and  _ fuck  _ if Snow outs me, I just want to feel his mouth again. 

He goes bright red, and I don’t even need an answer at that, but he gives me one anyway. “I knocked it over when I was cleaning, and it flipped open to that page. I didn’t mean to read it, and I haven’t been able to get the thought of kissing you out of my head all day.” 

I have to admit, that’s not what I expected. I thought he would go on about plotting, or something of the like. What surprises me more is that he’s not lying. Snow is a terrible liar, and his jaw is set determinedly. 

“I could kill you,” I say instead, because there’s a beautiful boy in my bed and apparently I have to ruin every good thing that comes my way. 

“But you won’t,” he says, as sure as ever. “You want me like this.” 

I don’t ask him to clarify what he means by  _ like this _ . I don’t think I’d let him move even if the room caught fire. 

I move my hands up to his hips, and he smirks. 

He leans over me again, and I reach up to meet his mouth. I think I’d always reach for him, if he’d let me. 

**Simon**

I have no idea what I’m doing, but by the way he’s reacting, he likes it. Likes  _ me _ . He’s letting out these little noises that make my chest ache, and I want to give him everything, every piece of me. I shift, and he lets out a startled moan before his eyes shoot open, not even bothering to conceal his panic. 

I don’t break eye contact as I shift again. I’m sure I’m blushing, and I’m pretty sure I’ve never been this hard in my life. Baz looks like he’s about to stop me, so I move against him again. 

“Do you want me to stop?” I ask, because it’s one thing to tease him, but another to take this too far. 

He looks conflicted, and squeezes my hips. I realize his mouth looks fuller than it did a few moments ago, and I can’t help the pride that I feel. The great Baz Pitch, losing control. Losing control because of  _ me _ .

“Simon,” he says, and his fangs give him a bit of a lisp.

(I try not to think it’s adorable) 

(It’s really fucking adorable)

“Yes?” I ask, because he’s been making my life hell for the past seven years, I think he can take a few minutes. 

“Are you suggesting,” he trails off, and I’ve never heard Baz anything short of confident — cocky, even. But now he sounds the slightest bit unsure. “You know I’m…” he doesn’t say  _ vampire _ , but we both know what he means. I can’t even find it in me to brag about being right. 

“I know,” I say, “and I’m not scared of you.” 

“I wouldn’t forgive myself if I hurt you,” he says, and it hits me then. 

This isn’t just A Thing for Baz. This isn’t just a kiss. This isn’t two roommates getting each other off, of kissing a bit so that the tension will decrease. No, this is Feelings, with the trademark symbol and all. 

I have to think quickly. I’m usually very good at quick decisions, but this feels much more delicate, much more important than some mission for the Mage. 

“I know,” I say again, “I don’t want to hurt you either. I never have, really.” 

“You’re an absolute nightmare,” he says when he processes what I said, what I  _ mean _ . 

“I can be your absolute nightmare, if you want,” I retort, and the grin he gives me then, fangs and all, cements that whatever feelings these are in my chest, they’re all for him. Every last piece of me is for him, and all he needs to do is ask. 

He doesn’t respond, he just kisses me, mindful of the fangs. He flips us easily, so I’m on my back and he’s straddling my hips, and I grin up at him. He smiles back, and I lean up on my elbows, tucking a strand of his hair behind his ear. 

We continue to kiss until our mouths are sore, until he rolls off of me and I curl up into his side, my head on his chest. We’re both breathing hard, and I’m grinning stupidly at the ceiling. 

We fall asleep like that, in his bed. I don’t feel too warm for the first night in ages, content against his side, our legs tangled together under the blankets. 

I’m trying to figure out how we’re going to navigate this in the morning, if he’s going to go back to being cruel, when he makes a soft noise in his sleep and moves, curling up and dragging me into the shape of him, pressing his nose into my hair, and I realize that I don’t care. The morning could bring an entire army of goblins, and I’d have to be physically dragged from this bed.

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Simon**

I wake up warm but not overheated, Baz's breath cool against my neck, and the weight of him centres me in a way I didn't know I needed. If it weren't for my grumbling stomach, I'd stay with him like this all day. We're not needed anywhere on a Sunday, anyway.

I turn in his arms, pulling away from the coolness of his body to just  _ look _ at him. He's gorgeous even while sleeping, face relaxed and snoring so quietly anyone else wouldn't be able to hear it. I kiss his cheek and then his nose, smiling at the way his face scrunches. I pepper more kisses on his face and he opens one eye in an attempt of a disgruntled look. 

"Good morning, darling," I say, and he's sitting up, both eyes wide. 

"Simon," he breathes, and I nod, darting forward to peck him on the lips. 

"That really happened," he says faintly, and I can't keep the shit-eating grin off my face. He kisses me again, and I melt into it, pressing us both back down into the mattress. My stomach growls the moment he goes to shift us, and my face burns. 

He rolls his eyes, but he's smiling. "Come on, let's get you something to eat." He must see my hesitation, because he puts distance between us quickly. "Unless you'd rather not be seen with me. Merlin, I don't even know if you're queer." 

"That's not it," I say, because who wouldn't want to be seen with Baz? To tell everyone they know that the beautiful boy on their arm is  _ theirs _ , that they're the one Baz smiles at with adoration dancing in his eyes, that they're the one Baz moans so sweetly for. "I guess I'm queer," I say, "I never thought about it before. I just like people. Bisexual, I think it's called." 

Baz nods, waiting for me to continue. I take his hand in mine as I wait for the words to come. I don't even know how to explain it without coming off as a complete insecure mess. I don't think I can say  _ well, I just don't want to be some kind of placeholder for whoever inspired that sweet yearning entry _ ,  _ and I'm kind of wondering if all these emotions really are for me, or if you're picturing someone else _ without crying. Or going off. Or both. 

"I don't want this to be convenient for you," I say, and immediately cringe at the choice of words. He seems to get my point though, because his entire face softens as he pulls me into his lap. 

"Simon, every single yearning entry I've ever written is for you. There is nothing more I want than for you to be my absolute nightmare. I've had a piss-poor way of showing it, but I'm pretty sure I've been in love with you since the Crucible brought you to me." 

We're kissing again, and I'm just about to ask him to  _ please  _ bring me to breakfast when there's a knock at the door. We panic and I nearly fly back into my own bed, diving under the covers as it opens. Baz looks unbothered as ever, his book from last night in his lap again, and I fight the urge to stick my tongue out at him. 

It's just Penny, and I let myself relax. She looks at me, and then at Baz, taking in the tension. My shirtless state is nothing new (running hot means clothes are a necessary evil), but she takes in Baz's with a raised eyebrow. I open my mouth to say something, but Baz beats me to it. 

"Anything you needed, Bunce? Or are you just flexing on the rest of us with your ability to get into warded places again?" 

It makes her laugh, and Baz looks pleased with himself. I sigh with relief. It will be okay, probably. 

"I was coming to see if you'd killed Simon in his sleep for being such a nosy shite, but I'm taking it you just mauled him instead." 

My hand flies up to my neck, and Penny absolutely  _ cackles _ . "Oh, you're too easy, Simon." 

"Is...are you okay with this, Penny?" I ask. I don't think I'd be able to take it if she decided this isn't something she could handle or be around. I know Penny's not homophobic, but some kids from Care said that their parents supported everyone else, but it was different when it came to them. 

Not that I think Penny’s my mother figure or anything, but the sentiment is the same.

"Simon, I knew it would end like this since fifth year, give me some credit." 

"Fifth year?" Baz asks. 

"You two were always slamming each other into things and doing that thing where as you shout your faces get closer and closer together. The sexual tension could be cut with a knife." She pauses, "also, Agatha complained about Simon never being you know,  _ into  _ her." 

I avoid Baz's stare, and mime at Penny to  _ cut it the fuck out _ . Agatha's classically beautiful, but it never felt right to try and get in her pants. I think back to last night, where I was all but ready to rip Baz's off, and blush.

"Anyway," Penny says, "can we go get breakfast? I didn't eat because I was waiting for Simon, and I'm pretty sure Simon's going to need a fainting couch if we don't get something in him soon." 

I get out of bed and shrug on my Watford sweater, but Baz doesn't move. "Come on, love. At least sit with us." 

He looks shocked, and I try to give him a reassuring smile. Penny fake gags. 

**Baz**

I'm not quite convinced that this isn't a dream. We haven't even been awake for half an hour, and Simon's called me both 'darling' and 'love'. He wants me there, with him in the dining hall. He wants me to sit with him and the person who means the most to him, despite what people will say. 

(There's a reason I'm quietly out, at Watford. I don't hide it, but I don't shout it.) 

(I'd shout it for Simon, though. I'd scream until my lungs gave out.) 

Penny stays in the room while I shuffle into the bathroom to get changed, and when I hear her and Simon whisper-shouting, I try my hardest not to listen in, but it's difficult. 

"I don't know," Simon says, sounding frustrated.

"You can't  _ not know _ , Si! He deserves to know." 

"I'm not going to hurt him. But I can't say we're forever. There's a good chance I'm going to  _ die _ , Penelope." 

"Well, do you want this to be forever?" 

Simon mumbles something in response. Bunce makes a frustrated noise. 

"We've only been...this for not even a day and I'm more sure of him than anything. It feels like this is what the world wanted. It doesn't matter if I want him forever, because eventually..." 

He trails off and I hear fabric rustling, like an embrace. I don't need to hear the rest of the conversation to hear what Simon's going to say. Eventually, my family will expect me to kill him. Eventually, he'll realize what me being a vampire really means and it'll make him so sick he'll leave. 

There's a weight in my chest, and I try to ignore it. He wants me, this makes him happy. I'll give him this for as long as he wants it, and when it all bursts into flames, I can only hope I'll be the next to catch fire. 

**Simon**

My conversation with Penny leaves me near-tears. Baz is (probably) immortal. He has forever. He'll be able to go off after Watford and find a posh, handsome vampire boyfriend to spend forever with. I'll get older than him eventually, and he won't want to tote some wrinkly old man around the Club. He won't be attracted to me anymore when I start getting old and that's fine. 

I can't consider the possibility of me being Turned. Not right now. I go off too much, I'll probably always go off too much for it to be safe. Baz wants me, though. Has  _ always  _ wanted me, and as long as he wants me, I'll be by his side. I don't even care about the coming out thing. I just want my stupid, posh, overly dramatic vampire. 

The walk to breakfast is tense until Baz takes my hand with a soft smile. I return it and he pulls me to his side, making me laugh. 

"Were Micah and I this gross when he was here?" Penelope asks, and I nod. 

"But worse." 

"So much worse," Baz snorts. 

Baz performs an Open Sesame on the doors, and the entire great hall quiets and looks at us. Baz and I hand in hand, stupid smiles on our faces. Penny, fondly exasperated. We walk briskly over to the food and Baz fills a plate more than he usually does, and I give him a grateful smile. The spell lasts on our classmates until we sit down, and then the volume is near-earsplitting. 

"Well, that's one way to come out," Penny says, before looking off to the side and frowning. "Shit, Agatha incoming in three, two—" 

Agatha slides into the seat next to Baz, and I have no control over the way I grip his thigh in a vice-grip under the table. 

"So, how did you two get spelled together?" She asks as she butters a piece of toast, and I gape at her. 

"We're not spelled together, Wellbelove," Baz says, detangling himself from me just enough to prove his point. 

There's a pout to her lips now, and I see Penny roll her eyes. "I don't understand." 

"Baz and I are together now," I say, and Agatha snorts. 

"Right." 

I feel the prickling under my skin, despite Baz's hand on my lower back. "Listen, Ags," I say, "just because I'm not posh, or smart, or  _ whatever _ , doesn't mean I couldn't land someone like Baz." 

"Simon, you hate him!" 

"Since when? When's the last time we fought?" 

Agatha pauses then. "Oh. you know, this makes a lot of sense." 

I deflate, but my skin still itches. I tap my fingers on the tabletop as a way to let out some of the frustration. 

"Really," Agatha says. She turns to Baz, "I always thought he was a little too obsessed with you, and every time he thought we were off together he'd nearly go feral." 

I feel my face colour. Of  _ course,  _ she's going to take this opportunity to embarrass me. 

"Oh?" Baz says, squeezing my hand. 

"Yeah, I never thought my boyfriend and I would be crushing on the same guy." 

"Aggie!" I whisper-shout, and she reaches across to put a hand on mine. "I'm happy for you Si, really. We'd never have worked out anyway. I'm thinking of getting a nice Normal boyfriend once we all graduate." 

"The Chosen One, a you-know-what, and then a Normal? You sure know how to pick them, Ags." Penny is joking, but Agatha bristles anyway. 

"You'd give up Magic to be with a Normal?" Baz asks. 

"I don't use it much anyway," she says, "and it's not like I'd never use it. Just not in front of him." 

Baz nods, and we go back to our food in semi-silence. As we're leaving, Agatha pulls me aside. "I'm sorry, Si. I really didn't mean it to sound like that. Of  _ course _ you're good enough for Baz. I can't believe I didn't see it before now, but he's totally been moon-eyed over you for as long as I can remember." 

I thank her, and we hug. Just before we join up with the others), I say. “I'd give up all of this too," I say, "for love. I think it's proper romantic of you." 

She smiles, and it feels like something has finally clicked into place the way it's supposed to. 

Later that night, we all pile into Dev and Niall's room. Baz is leaning back on his elbows, legs splayed in front of him as he argues with Penelope about whether or not it's ethical to keep the merwolves in the moat.

"I don't give a  _ fuck  _ about ethical, Bunce. They're awful, disgusting creatures."

"They're awful but they still deserve a proper amount of water to live in."

"And I deserve a grand piano I can spell small to carry around with me, but I don't have one of those."

"You can play piano?" I ask, and Baz nods. "Huh, I thought it was just a violin." 

"He can also play the flute, but he looks like a right tosser when he plays," Dev snickers. 

Baz looks embarrassed, but his face doesn't have a hint of a flush. 

Oh, fuck. He hasn't fed all day. 

"I'm thirsty," I say unsubtly, "Baz, come with me to the kitchens." 

Dev and Niall wolf-whistle and Agatha rolls her eyes. I hear her mutter a "you know, he never was that excited to get alone time with  _ me _ ," and then giggle at whatever Dev responded with. 

Baz tries to push me up against the wall, a smirk on his face, but I put a hand on his chest. "You haven't fed today," I say. 

He draws into himself a bit, so I pull him into a hug. "It's alright. We can nip out and back and they'll just think we've found somewhere to snog in." 

"We?" Baz's voice is strangled. 

"Well, I'm not going to let you leave all on your own now, am I? Wouldn't be a good boyfriend if I did." 

"You don't want to see it," Baz says, and I raise an eyebrow. 

**Baz**

Simon can't see me feed. I'm not going to have this all go to shit not even twenty-four hours after I’ve finally got him. 

"Baz, I don't know if you know this, but you're incredibly fucking fit and I'd be lying if I said I don't find your fangs hot." 

I don't think about any of that because I don't have enough blood in me to. "I eat  _ rats _ , Simon. It's not hot." 

"We'll get you some proper game then, I can see my boyfriend take down a deer or something." 

"Simon, I'm not spending hours hunting deer for you to fulfil your weird vampire kink." 

He flushes, and I'd be lying if I said it didn't make my throat burn. "It's not a kink," he mumbles. "Anyway, I can just spell one for you." 

I can tell when I'm losing. "Fine," I say, " _ if  _ you can spell me a deer I'll take it down. Let's go." 

We walk briskly, and Simon fidgets with the hem of his sweater the whole time. "You're not mad, are you?" he asks. 

"No, why would you think that?" 

"Well, I did push you—" 

"Simon, if I were mad you'd know, okay?" I say it gently, because it's not a threat. I don't think I'd have it in me to hurt him ever again. I take his hand, and he brightens a bit. "Who gave you the silent treatment when they were mad?" 

He hesitates, and I know. "Agatha," I say. 

He nods. "The Mage, too." 

We get out into the Wood and I look at him expectantly. 

"Bring me a deer," he tries, no magic in the words. " **Bring me a deer!"** He tries again, and this time a doe comes trotting out of the wood and over to us, butting her head against Simon's palm. He pets her absentmindedly.

"Simon, I can't eat her." 

"Baz, it's fine." 

"No, you just bonded with her. I'm not going to feed on Bambi's mother! This was a horrible idea." 

"Are you having an existential crisis over a deer?" 

"No! ...Maybe." 

I hear a twig break in the wood, and my head snaps up. A second deer comes trotting out, and I don't give it time to become best friends with Simon before I'm next to it and (gently, carefully) breaking its neck so it won't be in pain. Simon's sitting with the damn doe in the grass, watching me as he pets her absentmindedly. 

This will be the first and last time he ever sees me do this, so I indulge him and cast a spell that'll make it easy for him to see. I sink my teeth into the deer's neck and feed, shuddering at the way I suddenly feel rejuvenated. I drain it dry, and it kind of feels like when I drink too much water. My face is flushed and I know my eyes are wild. I had slid in some of the mud, so there's blood around my mouth and I think some got onto my collar. Simon has pushed the doe away and is looking at me with such open... _ something _ that I show off just a little, lifting the animal carcass effortlessly and bringing it to the edge of the wood where I lay it down. 

Simon comes over to me, and the doe follows behind him. He kisses me, seemingly not caring about the blood around my mouth, and the noise I make isn't human. 

"Why are so you so," he kisses me again, "fucking," another kiss, "hot." 

I kiss him back, too full to even care about the way his pulse his fluttering in his neck, but then I'm nearly bowled over by the doe, and I break away. "I think you have a pet," I mutter against his lips as he tries to kiss me again.

He looks over to where the doe is looking at him expectantly and laughs, a loud, beautiful thing. "You can go back now," he tells her, but she doesn't move. 

We try just walking back to the castle, thinking that maybe she's just confined to the area, but she trots along next to Simon the whole time. The drawbridge isn't back up yet, thankfully. 

"We can't bring her into the castle," I say. 

"But we can't just leave her here! What if something happens?" 

"Simon, darling, we literally summoned her so I could eat her."

"But you didn't!" 

I sigh. "You can visit her in the morning," I try. 

"Can we bring her to Ebb? Ebb would know what to do." 

Right, his goatherd surrogate mother. I check my watch. "If we can do so in the next ten minutes, then yes." 

He smiles, his big, beautiful grin, and we share a look before we're running, the doe keeping up with us. It's exhilarating, and silly, and so  _ Simon Snow _ that I fall a little bit more in love. 

Simon knocks on the door like it's more urgent than a wayward doe, but Ebb just gives him a fond look. "Of course she can stay here tonight, Simon. You sure get yourself in the weirdest situations." 

Simon shrugs, taking my hand once again. Ebb raises an eyebrow, but says nothing. 

"Thank you," I say, and she looks genuinely surprised. 

"You're welcome, Mr. Pitch." 

We head back to our room for me to change my shirt, but it ends in more kissing, and by the time we're sated enough to think about rejoining our friends, it's much too late. 

We're laying together, after, when I bring it up. "I know this is really soon, but. I heard you and Bunce talking earlier. I feel like you should know I really do love you." 

Simon gasps a bit, and I press a kiss to his shoulder. "I love you too," he says. "I'm mostly just scared that we won't be able to be  _ this _ forever."

I nod. "The war," I say. 

Simon furrows his brow. "Fuck the war," he says so seriously that I have to just blink a couple of times. "You're immortal, Baz, and I'm sure there's posh, handsome vampires out there that would kill to be with you." 

"Okay and?" I say, "I'd tell them 'no thank you, my boyfriend's quite literally the Chosen One, piss off please." 

"I can't be with you forever." 

"We don't even know if I'm really immortal." 

Simon huffs. I kiss his nose. He smiles. 

"We can cross that bridge when we get to it," I say gently. "I have loved you for years, Simon Snow, I won't let something like your pesky mortality get in that way of that." I pause for a minute. "Besides, we have a doe to raise, now." 

He dissolves into giggles, and I relax into it. 

We'll be fine, Simon and I. I'll make sure of it. 


End file.
